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" The inventor's eyes flashed with the fire
that Bog had often seen; and when he emphasized the word "little," Bog
knew that he meant to express the boundlessness of the wealth that his
labors would bring to him.
"I believe it," said Bog, with sincerity pictured in every lineament of
his honest face. "I've always believed it."
"So you have, my dear Bog; and your faith has often cheered me," replied
the inventor, patronizingly. "By the way, how's your aunt?"
"Oh, yes; how _is_ your aunt, Bog?" asked Pet. "I had quite forgotten
her."
"She's pooty well, ony them rheumatics troubles her some. They're
workin' their way from her left arm into her head, aunt says. Week afore
last they was in her feet, and they've ben clear round her and goin'
back agen since then. Queer things, them rheumatics!"
"They are very painful, Bog, you know," said Pet.
"Yes; so aunt says." Bog did not add, as he might have truly done, "A
thousand times a day."
"Give her my kind regards, Bog, and say I will call and see her,"
continued Pet.
"My respectful regards also," added Mr.


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